Bring Out Your Dead
by Doctor Starlock
Summary: A few years after defeating the criminal Khan, Spock suddenly finds himself dragged into a wild, high-stakes search for a ghost from the past -his past.
1. Chapter 1

Molly Hooper knew. Even before the tests, the doctor's visit, before the proof, she knew. Something-some_one-_-was growing inside her.

And she knew who it was, too. A tiny organism, a minuscule creature not yet bigger than her hand, a ball of unknown potential that hadn't even decided who it would be yet. A baby, still weaving itself into being with her genes and those of Sherlock Holmes.

That night stood out in Molly's memory like an old favorite song stands out from radio static. It had not happened on purpose; Sherlock had simply come over to her flat to pick up some samples she'd gotten for him from the morgue. Then he had stayed for a cuppa. Molly would never have thought she had it in her to be so bold; it was while he was sitting there at the counter, complaining about John's going away on holiday, that she felt that longing well up, that familiar feeling of need. And then she'd kissed him without prelude-she, Molly Hooper, had got the steel in her to snog Sherlock Holmes!

And that, of course, had just been the beginning of a long night, a short night, a night of darkness and light, of confusion and revelation. Then she'd woken up in the morning and found herself alone, and she'd wondered if maybe it had all been a dream, another dream of her and Sherlock. But as she'd eaten breakfast she'd suspected that something was different. It had taken a few breakfasts, a couple dinners too, but after a few days, Molly decided that she was definitely not the same anymore, and she would never be the same again.

It had been a mistake. It had been a mistake, but not one Molly regretted. Especially now.

John's face twisted in sympathetic pain. "D'you want to come in and sit down?"

Molly nodded numbly, and John led her into the sitting room. She dropped herself into the armchair, the one that Sherlock always sat in while playing his violin, when he was in one of his thoughtful moods. She gently put a hand to her stomach-all she had left now.

"Well...Do you know where he went?" Molly asked.

John shook his head. Then he checked himself. "I mean, I _do_ know...but I'm not allowed to say."

"This is Mycroft, isn't it?" she asked in a small voice. "He dropped hints whenever I saw him. I wondered what was up. He was awfully _not_ subtle."

John nodded. "Mycroft does love to be dramatic."

Molly rubbed the upholstery with her thumb. "Will he ever be back? Or is that classified too?"

John rubbed his eyes. "Well, I actually haven't been told anything, but I don't think he'll ever be back."

Molly looked at John for a while. She tried to force a smile. "You're going with him soon, aren't you? You're not as broken up about this as I'd expect you to be."

The doctor gave a weary smile. "Yes, I expect to go the same way as him. Mostly because I don't think Sherlock will do anything for them; he'll insist on my company."

Molly wondered who "they" were, but she didn't press. She felt a pang in her chest-not of jealousy, maybe, but definitely sadness, disappointment. Of course Sherlock would ask for John. That's the way it had always been, and now there was no time to change things. Molly twisted the hem of her shirt in her hand. Sometimes she thought her clothes felt tighter, but she knew she was imagining things; she wasn't far enough along to be showing.

John was looking at his hands. After a moment of quiet, he said, "Molly, I don't mean to pry, but...what did you need to see Sherlock for?"

Here it was, the moment she had to explain. While she was disappointed she'd never be able to tell Sherlock herself, at least it was easier to tell John Watson. At least John's reaction would be somewhat predictable. Sherlock, on the other hand...Would he have been angry? Excited? Scared? Would he have even cared?

"John, I...I'm pregnant."

John smiled. "Well, congratulations, Molly!"

"You don't understand," Molly said, shaking her head. "I'm pregnant with..." She made a vague gesture with her hand around the room.

John's eyes widened. "Oh. Oh! Uh...er..." He coughed and twisted his lips around a bit. "You're...you're sure it's...Sherlock?"

Molly nodded meekly.

John nodded as well. What was in his eyes, besides shock? Disbelief? Shame? Hurt? "God, you're...you're serious? That's...I mean, it's..."

"I don't know what it is," Molly said, suddenly tearing up. "It was an accident, but...I mean, now that he's gone, I'm not sorry. But...now what do I do? Sherlock's gone, and I'm going to have a baby, and..." Tears began to flow down her cheeks. She held her hand to her mouth to keep from sobbing.

"Well, have you...I mean, have you considered all the...er, options? Adoption, um, abortion...?" John suggested lamely. Molly gave him a look. They both knew she'd never do any such thing.

"Does...Does Sherlock know?" John asked after an awkward silence. He puffed out his cheeks and looked at Molly.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "At least, I don't think so. I haven't seen him since, um, since that night. I mean..." She sighed shakily. "I don't know. He might."

John nodded. "This is Sherlock we're talking about."

"Yeah..." Molly wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I just...wanted to tell him." She tried to smile. "I wonder how he would've, you know, reacted."

"Probably said something insensitive before you even got the chance to tell him," John said. He straightened his back and put on an imperious expression-a good imitation of Sherlock. "'Molly, I see by the turn-ups on your jeans that you are pregnant.'"

Molly giggled gratefully. Then she signed and looked down at her hands. "I guess we'll never know."

John laid a hand on Molly's. "I'll tell him," he said gently. "That is, if you want me to."

Molly gave him a weak smile. "That'd be, um...lovely."

John sat back and nodded. "Even if you never get to see his reaction, he should still know."

Molly nodded. "Yes," she assented, her voice so soft that it was scarcely more than an exhalation. She cupped her face in her hand and cried silently, letting the tears pool in her palm.

John let her cry unmolested, moving about in the kitchen so she could be alone. He made a kettle of tea and then brought some out to Molly. She let him get her into conversations about the mundane-cricket and football, things on the telly, the royal family, books. She was grateful for the distraction.

Finally Molly rose to go. John walked her to the door. She looked at him.

"How much longer will you be..." She glanced round the flat. "When will you be leaving...here?"

John looked wistful. "Not much longer, I expect. They'll probably come for me any day; probably sooner than later. Sherlock can be very persuasive."

"Um, who...who's 'they'?" Molly asked, unable to help herself. "You can't tell me anything, I suppose."

John sighed. "Well...it has nothing to do with eugenics. And no connection with Baskerville." He winked when Molly gave him a blank star. Molly smiled.

"_Oh_. Right. Nothing to do with them at all." She chuckled a bit. She could feel that her smile did not reach her eyes. And suddenly she knew that she would never see John Watson again.

"I don't know what it'll be," she said hurriedly. "I mean, boy or girl. But I'm...I'll make Holmes part of the name." She looked at her feet. "It's just...I mean, Sherlock might, you know, want to know..."

John smiled and nodded. "Of course. I'll be sure and tell him." They said their goodbyes and Molly stepped outside. She crossed the street and looked back at 221B. John was standing at the window, holding Sherlock's pet skull in his hand and staring up at the rooftops.

The next day Molly returned to Baker Street, just to make sure. Mrs. Hudson answered the door, and her distressed expression confirmed Molly's intuitive feeling: John was gone. He'd been taken away, he and Sherlock, and they would most likely never be back. And so she was alone. Almost.


	2. Chapter 2

Violet Antonia Hooper Holmes loved to hear stories about her father. Once she figured out that she did not own a father but that she must have one somewhere, that is. At first she'd had this vague idea that "father" was like "God", maybe even the same thing. But then she'd been told a little more about God, and they didn't seem to be quite exactly the same thing, so she decided that "father" must be like "Prime Minister"-slightly more attainable but still far away. But then she heard her mum complaining about Prime Minister, and so Violet concluded that they were not the same thing either. So she asked for help.

"Mummy," she asked on morning, "what is father?"

Mummy was very still for a while. Then she moved again. "You mean who?" Violet thought about this, then nodded, though she wasn't sure of the difference. Mummy took a deep breath. "Well...your dad-your father-is Sherlock Holmes."

Violet knew her full name. She pointed to herself. "Holmes. Like me!" Mummy nodded. Violet scrunched up her nose. "Where is he?"

Her mother stirred her cereal slowly. "He's...well, he's...chasing hounds on the moor."

This of course necessitated the explanation of what "moor" was, one thing led to another, and the subject was dropped for the time being. But a different day Violet asked where her father was, and then once more at bedtime, and soon it became the nighttime ritual.

Where is Sherlock Holmes now? What is he doing?

The answer was different every night. Tonight your father is in Russia, freeing a man from prison. Right now your father is in Africa, learning how to get honey from killer bees. Today your father was on the high seas, crossing swords with fierce pirates.

Violet loved to listen to her mother's voice, soft and sweet, telling all these tales. lulling her to sleep each night. But she also knew that these were not all true. The only true stories were the ones where Sherlock was a superhero. That was how Violet thought of her father: a superhero. Sometimes when she felt sad she'd think of all Mummy's stories about Sherlock saving people, and then she thought maybe her father was an angel.


	3. Chapter 3

_Light._

_The first thing he was conscious of was light. how long had it been since he had felt that piercing thing? There was no way to know. Yet._

_He heard gasps. Not loud-just tiny inhalations that only his ears alone could ever have caught. _

_He opened his eyes. People were standing over him, looking down at him. He suppressed a smile. What a lovely way to wake up. Energy suddenly made his fingers tingle. A voracious excitement sprang up inside. _

_Because the first thing he had seen...was fear._


	4. Chapter 4

_Two guards escorted him down a sleek black corridor. They wore trim blue uniforms-they possessed something akin to military training; both ranking at crewman first class, both had been working at their positions for two years; the man was married with two children, and the woman was sleeping with somebody's fiance; the man was not likely to be promoted any time soon, but the woman was in line for ensign; both were carrying sidearms that could be set to lethal. And both were trying to appear unafraid-and failing_

_All this he could tell from one glance. _

_He was silent as they led him along. They were wary and anxious, but not enough to escort him along by the elbow. He ignored their sidelong glances and focused on observing his surroundings. He was either in an underground facility or a starship. The corridors didn't give much clue as to the year. Humans-regular humans-moved cyclically between energetic fits of remarkable progress and long periods of regressive lethargy. And as he had been asleep there was no way of knowing by deduction alone which had taken place during his slumber. Thirty years could have passed, or three hundred. _

_The escort led him through a set of doors that slid smoothly open of their own accord. he stepped into a large room with sleek computer banks along the walls, with desk-like consoles at the front of the chamber. A large chair was just a step above the others, overseeing the empty room._

_He smiled to himself. The bridge of a starship. _

_"Down here," the woman guard directed. The two crewmen led him down to the far front corner of the bridge, where another door awaited. _

_"Captain's cabin," he observed just loud enough to be heard. _

_The two guards stared at him uneasily. "The ready room, yes," the female crewman said. He followed his escorts through the door. _

_His eyes immediately began analyzing the room and the person in front of him. Tall widower in his late middle ages; admiral rank; probably came from a family with a history in the military or law enforcement; had at least one child, a daughter; allergic to dogs. _

_The admiral rose slowly as one of the guards reported: "Sir, the man from the cryotube has been revived." _

_"I can see that, crewman," the admiral said sharply. His voice was gruff and chipped._

_The admiral stepped forward and looked at him. They would be the same height, if the admiral would only remove his orthopedic inserts. A stupid, decaying old man. How delightful. _

_"What's your name, frozen man?" barked the admiral. _

_"My name is Khan Noonien Singh," he answered smoothly, unruffled by the admiral's sharpness. _

_"Do you know why I had you taken out of that cryotube and woken up?" the admiral demanded curtly. _

_Khan's lips curled up into a wicked smile. Oh yes. Of course he knew. He knew everything. He could see it all so clearly, even more clearly than this buffoon in front of him. Did he know? What a tiresome question. _

_"I know why," he said, letting his low voice rumble. "Because you need my help."_


	5. Chapter 5

The Earth's sun shone brightly on the green lawns of the Academy. Classes were in session and there were few people outside. Spock looked back down at his tablet.

"Hey there. What're you doing?"

He raised his head and saw Uhura take a seat next to him. "Research," Spock answered simply.

"Research on what?"

"At the destruction of Vulcan, my family's formal ancestry records were lost. Of late I have been working on my own personal project to restore them." He looked down at the tablet. "Since my mother's ancestry was not included in the original record, I have taken the liberty of including it in this new record."

Nyota put a hand on his shoulder and stroked his shirt with her thumb. "I know you're still grieving about her," she said quietly. "If you ever want to talk..."

"Nyota," Spock broke in, "if you are implying that I am doing this because I want to be emotionally in touch with my mother, you are mistaken. This is research I am gathering for posterity's sake."

Uhura removed her hand. "And?" she asked. "What have you found so far?"

"At present I am beginning my research on the fifth generation back. My great-great-great-grandmother was named Violet Antonia Hooper Holmes. I am looking for the identity of her mother and father."

Nyota cocked her head to one side. "You never really talk very much about your family, Spock. When I was a little girl my grandmother told stories about her childhood, about her parents and grandparents. What about you? Don't you have any stories like that?"

Spock blinked. "We had many historical narratives which were recited among my clan."

"What about your mother?" Uhura prodded. "She never told you any stories about her human ancestors?"

He pondered this for a moment. "There is one story I recall her telling me, in private, about her great-great-great-great grandfather. It is possible she told me others, but that is the only account I remember in detail, perhaps because the man she described was a bit...Vulcan-like."

"Oh?" Uhura mused, obviously intrigued. "What was that story?"

"My mother told me that this ancestor had been a human male who impregnated my ancestress and then disappeared."

Nyota blinked at Spock for a moment. Then she groaned and lightly smacked his knees. "Spock!"

The Vulcan was perplexed. "What is the problem?"

"You made it sound so interesting! Come on, tell me the _story_. I don't just want the barest boring facts."

Spock knit his eyebrows together. "My mother did present the account to me as fact."

"Okay," Uhura conceded, "but I bet she told it to you in a much more interesting way. What else do you remember about it?"

"According to my mother," Spock said, "my ancestor's name was Sherlock Holmes. My mother described him as an emotionless man with the occupation of 'consulting detective.'"

Nyota looked confused. "Consulting detective? What's that?"

"I believe the title is a bit self-explanatory."

She made a face. "Yeah, but, I mean, I've never heard of a 'consulting detective,' not in the present or in history books."

"It is a rather singular title," Spock agreed. "My mother spoke as if it were a very particular, or perhaps _exclusive_, profession."

"Maybe he was the only one in the world," Uhura mused.

"It is possible," Spock agreed. "My mother described Sherlock Holmes as extremely intelligent and mysterious. In her story she claimed that he once jumped off a building and faked his death to trick a criminal mastermind into committing suicide."

"What, really!?" Nyota exclaimed. "That's unbelievable!"

"Indeed, it is unbelievable," Spock said. "My mother seemed to attribute my ancestor with many skills and characteristics that were inhuman or even almost superhuman."

"You don't believe your mother's story?"

Spock cocked his head slightly. "Do _you_ believe all the stories you have been told about _your _ancestors?"

Uhura ignored his question. "You said he was a consulting detective, possibly the only one in the world. Wouldn't someone like that be on historical records? Look him up."

Spock typed the name on his tablet: S-H-E-R-L-O-C-K H-O-L-M-E-S. The Starflee database produced a concise paragraph, with links to other places where the name appeared in articles and records. The list of external links was very short.

"What does it say?" Uhura asked.

"The information appears to be incomplete," Spock said. "The entry gives his full name, the names of his parents and his brother, his date of birth, where he lived, his education, and it does mention that he was a consulting detective. The last sentence says that he was, quote, most famous for his hand in the defeat of the notorious crime lord James Moriarty."

Uhura looked at him expectantly for a moment. "That's it? It doesn't say anything else about him?"

"As I said," Spock replied, "the information does not seem to be complete. It does not even provide the date of his death."

"You said that your mother told you he disappeared," Uhura said. "What does it say about that?"

Spock shook his head. "It says nothing. There is nothing in this entry even to suggest that he went missing."

"That's really strange." Uhura took the tablet from Spock and glanced over the article. "It doesn't even say anything here about things he did. Like faking his death, for example."

"Perhaps because it is an event that never took place," Spock offered.

"There you go again," Uhura said, shaking her head. "Why would your ancestors pass down a story like that if it wasn't true?"

"There are any number of explanations, Nyota," Spock said. "Perhaps they all believed the story to be true. It is possible that Sherlock Holmes really jumped off a building to carry out his own suicide, and my ancestress was so bereft at his loss that she convinced herself that he had merely faked his death."

"If he really did die like that," Uhura pointed out, "then why isn't it mentioned in this database entry?" She clicked on a link. "Look, here's a picture of him." She handed the tablet back to Spock. It showed a three hundred year old tabloid article from London, England. Below the headline was a photo of a man trying to evade the camera. He had his coat collar turned up and was trying to hide behind it, with an ancient-style deerstalker pulled down over his face. One wild, glinting, blue-green eye gleamed from the space between the hat and the collar.

"Well, that's not much of a picture, is it?" Nyota sighed.

Spock zoomed in on the photo. "He looks very familiar."

Uhura laughed and kissed Spock on the cheek. "You mean like your reflection."

"That is not what I meant," Spock said. "I feel that I have seen this man before."

Uhura looked at the picture. "I don't know. He doesn't look very much like you or your mother."

"Nevertheless, I am sure I have seen him before," Spock mused. His communicator chirped from his pocket.

"What is it?" Uhura asked.

"Strange. Doctor McCoy is requesting that I meet him in the Museum of Human Medicine."

"Well, what's strange about that?"

"It is strange because Doctor McCoy rarely seeks out conversation with me willingly."

Uhura laughed and kissed his cheek again.

"Well, you go have fun with Doctor McCoy," she said. "I'll see you tonight at my place for dinner.

"I do not think Doctor McCoy intends to meet me at the museum so that we can have fun," Spock stated as Uhura stood up from the bench.

Nyota laughed again as she walked away. "No, no, he probably doesn't."


	6. Chapter 6

Doctor McCoy was in the smallpox exhibit, reading, when Spock found him. He was seated on a bench, looking particularly morose under the fluorescent lights.

"Good afternoon, Doctor McCoy," Spock greeted.

The doctor looked up. "Oh, well, good afternoon, Mr. Spock."

"I received your message," Spock continued, "and am most intrigued as to why you requested our meeting. Unless I am mistaken, you are also on leave, are you not?"

McCoy nodded. "I am. I just figured we, ah...needed a little chat."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Doctor, if this pertains to a medical issue then I would appreciate a more straightforward answer."

"No, no, don't worry Spock, it's no medical issue. Why don't we just take a walk outside, huh?"

Spock and the doctor left the museum through a side exit. Spock followed Doctor McCoy for a few meters before he finally said, "Doctor McCoy, you are a man of no subtlety. What is your reason for wanting to speak with me?"

_"I'm_ a man of no subtlety?" the doctor asked. "Well lookit you, the pot calling the kettle black!"

"Doctor McCoy..."

"Alright, alright, don't get your ears in a twist." McCoy glanced around the street a bit uneasily. "Since we're on leave until repairs on the Enterprise are finished, I've been volunteering my time to help out with the study of Khan and the rest of his fellow him popsicles."

"Studying them from within the cryotubes?" inquired Spock.

"Yes, of course," the doctor scoffed. "Most of the research and data from the original eugenics experiments which created Khan and the others was destroyed in the Eugenics War, so when Khan was recaptured, and in light of his abilities-such as how his blood was able to restore Jim-, Starfleet thought it'd be a good idea to investigate the Augments' powers further."

"With the approval of the Federation Council, I assume," Spock said. "And they are no doubt ensuring that the proper safety measures are being taken."

The doctor coughed and cleared his throat. "Yes, well...Anyway, the person who was put at the head of the project is Doctor Leila Jaresh. She wanted me to invite you down to have a look at some of the work we're doing."

"I am puzzled," Spock admitted. "Why should this Doctor Jaresh request that I take a look at her research? I have no particular expertise in any are which might pertain to the study of the Augments."

"Oh, well, she just wanted the science officer of the most famous ship in the fleet to have a look-see," the doctor said offhandedly. "And Jaresh figured that it would be easy to get you to come, since we serve together-"

"Doctor McCoy," Spock interrupted, "it is apparent that there is some important issue here that you need my asisstance to address and which you are attempting to avoid speaking about."

The doctor stiffened. "Why, what makes you say that?"

"We are both on temporary leave, and yet you seek me out to ask me to come and inspect a research project on a subject in which I have no particular skill or affiliation. This, combined with the risky and familiar nature of the project you are working on, leads to the logical conclusion that you must need my help."

"Dammit, Spock." McCoy glowered sourly at the Vulcan. "Fine. You're right, we do want your help. But I can't tell you about it, certainly not out here. You'll still have to come down to our labs. Doctor Jaresh will explain everything for you."

"Doctor, has something gone wrong with the experiments on the Augments?" Spock asked sternly.

"I told you Spock, I can't tell you anything right now," McCoy grumbled.

Spock was silent.

The doctor sighed. "Listen, Spock. We made a mistake, something went wrong, and now we need to repair the damage before more is done. And we think you would be the best person to help us. But that's all I can say. All I'm asking is that you come down to the lab and let Doctor Jaresh brief you, and then you can decide what you'll do. You don't have to commit to anything until then. We really hope you'll be able to help us, Spock. It'll be the most..._convenient_ solution."

Spock frowned. "I will come. But I must ask, Doctor: Why do you need my help specifically?"

"Because sometimes the best and fastest way to do a job is to stick with the horse that's used to the plow." McCoy wouldn't meet Spock's eye. "It's something you've done before, Mr. Spock.


	7. Chapter 7

_Khan idly sipped his glass of water. The barkeep had almost laughed at such a request, until he'd felt the deadly weight of Khan's hand on his shoulder. _

_The darkest corner of the bar was where Khan sat now. It was the best vantage point-from the shadows he could see all the goings-on in this seedy establishment, but no one could clearly see him. Three exits: front entrance, back door, and fire escape to roof. Best of all-based on the proprieter's boots and complexion, there was a site-to-site transporter in the manager's office. It was a secret-to everyone but Khan. _

_Plenty of escape routes. A vantage point with no blind spots. And Starfleet wasn't even on his tail yet. Things were going well. _

_He watched the customers filter in and out. It was the hour of night where the only people who weren't drunk were those who had serious business to do. Or him. Even if it would have been able to affect his mind, with so much important work to do he would never have allowed himself a drop of alcohol. _

_Alcohol. Did it taste the same now as it had those hundreds of years ago? He'd stopped drinking it completely not long into the experiments. It'd taken him only a short time to realize that his newly improved metabolism worked too fast; drink was no longer a viable option if he wanted to drown out his troubles. _

_The truly great loss, though, had been the drugs. He'd gone for quite a few months before he finally gave up on smuggling them into his quarters at the laboratory. Long after the substances had stopped working for him, he'd still been addicted. Addicted to hope. The hope that maybe this time it would work, _this_ time the needle, the smoke, the patch, the pill would give him that long-awaited release and allow him to rise above all the tortures and sorrows he was enduring. _

_Of course no one had known what he was doing. How could they? From the start his intelligence had far surpassed theirs; the experiments had served only to widen that gap. None of the imbeciles there had ever guessed that he was trying to drug himself, and certainly none of them had guessed at his secret hope that if he took enough he would overdose and be able to leave. None of them ever knew. But Caesar...Khan had always suspected that Caesar had an inkling of what he was doing, even though he never said anything. Caesar often seemed to clumsily and inadvertently dredge up inklings. _

_No thoughts of Caesar. Khan focused on the people sulking at the bar and drifting in and out through the door. Which one, which one. Who would be the ideal victim, his _next_ victim? He could already tell there were several prime candidates in the crowd, people who could get him a ship and were manipulateable. But it wasn't just leverage he needed; he always preferred to exploit someone seeking help for all the right reasons. Like that Starfleet sap from a few months ago. _

_Finally he spotted one. She slunk in quietly form the street. Originally she'd been dressed nicely, but now she was in the final throes of giving up-evidently here to drink off the disappointment of another lousy date. In one glance Khan could tell she was the one he wanted: a woefully underpaid secretary and single mother, currently living alone because she was too proud to accept help from her parents. And her son had been recently diagnosed with a terminal illness. She was, in a word, desperate. _

_As if she'd sensed his thoughts, the haggard woman turned and met Khan's eye from across the room. He curled a beckoning finger and she hurriedly joined him in the shadows. He noticed a name engraved on her bracelet. _

_"Ms. Keane," Khan began with an innocuous little half-smile, "I can save your son."_


	8. Not a chapter

Hello everyone! Sorry that its been a while since I posted a new chapter! I took a break during NaNoWriMo and that was super intensive so in December I took a break from that. But I promise I will have a new chapter up sometime this coming week, so be on the lookout!


	9. Chapter 8

The labs that Doctor MCoy led Spock to were in the lower levels of the Daystrom Institute, deep enough that the doctor had to use his own clearance code to override the computer and allow Spock access. Spock followed him into a spacious circular room with walls lined by computer terminals. Everything in the area was arranged concentrically. At the center of the room was a long cylinder in a rotating cradle. It's face was transparent and covered with ice on the inside. Through the frost Spock could see the vague features of a woman seemingly asleep.

Spock peered into the frozen woman's face. "Fascinating."

"I'm glad you think so, Commander."

A thin, dark-skinned woman with chin-length black hair was entering the room from a door off to the side. She had dark eyes and spoke with a human accent commonly found in the south and western parts of Earth's Asian continent.

"Welcome, Mr. Spock," the woman said, holding out a hand to shake. "So pleased you could come."

"You are Dr. Leila Jaresh, I presume?"

"In the flesh. Thank you so much for coming to look at our work here."

"Dr. McCoy has informed me that you experiments have suffered an accident," Spock said without preamble. "An accident which you would like me to address."

Dr. Jaresh sent the other doctor a cutting look. "I had trusted you to be a little more...discreet."

"It is not Dr. McCoy's fault," Spock interjected. "I refused to come until I was better informed. However, the doctor did not provide specifics as to why you wished to consult me."

Dr. Jaresh sighed. "Well, it doesn't matter anyway. Just as long as you're here and willing to help us."

"I cannot make any decision about helping you," Spock said, "until you tell me the nature of the problem you wish me to assist you with."

"Of course. Come this way."

The woman led Spock and Dr. McCoy through a door across the room. It opened into a dim hangar filled with rows of cryotubes.

"This is our nursery, Mr. Spock," Dr. Jaresh said, gesturing to the pods. "Or our morgue, depending on how you look at it. All of the Augments salvaged over a year ago are kept in this room."

Spock began to slowly pace the aisles, inspecting the frozen faces inside each tube. "_Every_ Augment?"

"That's correct."

Spock turned to look at Dr. Jaresh. "And that is including the man named Khan Noonien Singh?"

The two doctors exchanged looks.

"Well, yes..." Dr. Jaresh drew her words out. "...That is, up until recently."

A spike of rage and fear lanced through Spock's mind before he hastily suppressed it. It would be illogical to let his emotions overtake him at a time like this.

"Do you mean," Spock asked, "that Khan has_ escaped_?"

Dr. Jaresh stuck out her chin. "Yes."

Spock strode over to the doctor and glared down at her, struggling against the human part of him that wanted to slam her against the wall. "Dr. Jaresh, when you were given the assignment to conduct research on the Augments, you were entrusted with the responsibility to do so with strict attention to safety. And yet you have failed to do this. Do you care to defend your actions?"

"It wasn't my fault," the woman growled defensively.

"She's telling you the truth, Spock," Dr. McCoy said. "It was an accident. Nobody could have prevented it."

"A falliable statement, doctor, as most accidents are, by nature, preventable. Tell me what happened."

Dr. Jaresh stepped around Spock and went over to one of the cryotubes. She opened a panel on the side. Behind it was a display of the operating systems of the tube and the vital functions of its occupants.

"It started out when we were taking a closer look at the cryotubes," the doctor explained. "This technology is so old that it's difficult to understand. Its primitiveness makes it almost as alien as technology from another planet." At a gesture from Dr. Jaresh Spock crouched down to look more closely at the panel she had open.

"We were trying to figure out the different functions of the computer interface for the tubes," the woman continued. She pointed to a small red tab in the corner. "Watch what happens when I pull this down."

The cryotube began humming softly, and the lights inside it turned red. The surrounding tubes turned red, and then the entire row. Within half a minute all the cryotubes in the hangar were vibrating and changing color.

"What is happening?" Spock asked.

"They're turning on," Dr. Jaresh replied calmly.

"Means the human popsicles are defrosting," explained Dr. McCoy.

Dr. Jaresh pressed a few more commands on the panel and immediately all the cryotubes began to power down.

"We made that mistake when we were investigating the computer interface," she said, standing. "At the time, however, we didn't know how to reverse the command. So all the Augments started waking up."

Spock furrowed his brows. "If that is so, then why was Khan the only one to escape?"

"He'd only been in cryosleep a short time compared to the others," Dr. McCoy said. "We think that's why he regained his senses so quickly."

"He of course overpowered all the staff," Dr. Jaresh said bitterly. "One of my team members was even killed trying to bar him from the door. I sounded the alarm, but he managed to dodge most of the security details sent after him, and he escaped from Daystrom and is now God only knows where."

Spock could sense where this was going. "And now you are hoping that I will be able to go out and recapture Khan and return him to this facility."

"Well...yes." Dr. Jaresh straightened defensively. "We thought that you would be the best person for the job."

"Who is your superior, Dr. Jaresh?" Spock asked.

"...My superior?"

"The person to whom you report. Surely there is someone above you who advocates your experiments and receives updates on your work."

"Yes," the doctor said. "I report directly to Admiral Hughes."

"What did the admiral have to say when she heard about your...accident?"

Dr. Jaresh's mouth clamped shut. McCoy answered for her. "Admiral Hughes is putting Dr. Jaresh and the members of her team under investigation. I'm exempt from the inquiry because I'm technically a volunteer consultant and it'd be more trouble and paperwork to investigate me than just let me slide by. But Dr. Jaresh's research has been suspended until further notice."

"And what actions has Admiral Hughes taken to address Khan's escape?" Spock asked. "If she were the one who chose me for this mission, I would have received official orders to that effect. Because I did not, I can only assume that your request for my help has not been approved through your superior."

"That's correct," Dr. Jaresh admitted. She folded her arms and paced slowly. "Admiral Hughes took the issue to the top brass at Starfleet Command. They decided to assemble a crack team to pursue Khan. I don't know the details, but I know that they'll have practically every resource at their disposal, including a ship with warp capabilities and a prototype cloaking device. But _you_ will have one resource that they won't-"

"If Starfleet Command has already taken action in the matter," Spock began, "then why, Dr. Jaresh, have you come to me for help?"

"With all due respect for Starfleet Command," the doctoor sniffed, "I don't think they know what they're doing. Certainly they're not handling the situation in the most efficient manner." She threw up her hands. "I tried to offer my advice, but of course no one even wanted to hear me open my mouth since they all blame me for his escape in the first place."

"I was officially consulted on how to apprehend Khan," Dr. McCoy offered, "but what little advice I could offer was also ignored."

Spock frowned. "I do not understand. You were in direct contact with Khan for a prolonged period of time and in the function of a medical professional. Logically your advice would be the most valuable."

"Yeah, well, tell that to the stuff-shirted bureaucrats who nodded and thanked me and did the opposite of everything I suggested."

"That's why it was my idea to get _you_, Spock," Dr. Jaresh said. "You single-handedly apprehended Khan and resolved the Marcus Conspiracy-"

"Lieutenant Uhura and I had something to do with it too, y'know," McCoy snipped.

"Commander, if there's anyone who has the highest chance of success at recapturing Khan, it's you," Jaresh insisted. She reached out an imploring hand. "Khan cannot be allowed to run rampant; you know that better than anyone else. _You _can stop him. I know you can. Please say you'll help."

Spock glanced at Dr. McCoy. Almost as if he were responding to Spock's thoughts the doctor said, "Technically there's no rule saying you can't go after him yourself, Spock. Starfleet Command wants to keep Khan's escape under wraps. They'll do their best to avoid making a scene that get's people asking questions. So you can quietly go after him however you like."

Spock was silent for a moment more. Finally he nodded slightly and looked at Dr. Jaresh.

"I will help you," he said. "But I cannot do it alone. I will need assistance."

Dr. Jaresh broke into a broad smile. "Oh, thank goodness! Thank you, thank you. And yes, of course you'll have help. That's what I was trying to tell you. There's one resource that Starfleet's team does no have access to, but that you'll be able to make full use of."

"And what resource is that?"

Dr. Jaresh laid a hand on one of the cryotubes. "The Augments."


	10. Chapter 9

Spock and Dr. McCoy both gave the same answer at the same time.

"_What!?_"

"All due respect, Dr. Jaresh," McCoy hissed, "but are you out of your rice-fed mind? We need to track down a murderous psychopath, and you want to do it by waking up _another_ cold-blooded killing machine to set on his trail? Maybe I'm missing something here, because that sounds _insane_."

"Actually," Spock said, "Dr. Jaresh's idea is one of merit. One of Khan's fellow Augments would logically be the best equipped to track and apprehend him."

"Oh, you agree with this plan? Forgive me if that doesn't make me feel any better."

"I did consider the fact that the Augments are historically an extremely violent group of individuals," Dr. Jareshput in, "and I've-"

"Calling these people 'extremely violent,'" Dr. McCoy snapped, "is like calling the N'vobian plague 'extremely inconvenient.' The Augments were designed for war. They were literally _made _to kill people!"

"Not originally," Dr. Jaresh said hotly. "And because of that, there are some Augments who are less dangerous than the others. As I was _going _to say, I've found one who I think will be willing to help us."

"Oh, really? What'd you do, wake them up and ask, 'Hey, would one of you be willing to help us wrangle up your ol' buddy Khan? He's just escaped from imprisonment after he crashed a massive starship into San Francisco.'"

"I think your sarcasm," Dr. Jaresh sniffed, "is a little unwarranted at this time."

"You will have to forgive Dr. McCoy," Spock said. "His hostility is merely the outward manifestation of his fear."

McCoy shot the Vulcan a poisonous look. "Yes, well, excuse me for being hostile toward a plan that could get us all killed!"

"Your melodramatics are also unnecessary, doctor. Please follow me this way, gentlemen."

Spock and McCoy followed Dr. Jaresh. She led them to the very last row of cryotubes.

"You'll recall, Dr. McCoy, the neurological scans we ran back when our research on the Augments first began," she said. To Spock, "The scans we took recorded each Augments' level of brain activity while frozen in cryosleep. But they also picked up on different neurotransmitter levels. We found that a few of the Augments had a decreased amount of certain chemicals in the brain that are associated with aggression and violence. Decreased compared to the other Augments, that is."

"I remember all that," Dr. McCoy said. "Those scans also sheowed that those same few had increased activity in areas of the brain that have to do with empathy and moral differentiation. In other words, these Augments have increased empathy and decreased aggression. But only in relation to the other Augments. There's still a significant margin between their levels and those of a normal, non-augmented human."

"I take it that you intend for one of these more subdued Augments to assist me in recapturing Khan," Spock said to Dr. Jaresh.

"That's right," she said. She gestured to the row of cryotubes. "These individuals are more likely to cooperate and less likely to kill you. In fact, there's someone specific I had in mind." Dr. Jaresh laid her hand on one of the cryotubes. Through the ice Spock could see the vague, sleeping features of a male Augment.

"I personally call him John," Dr. Jaresh's said, "though of course there's no way to know his real name for now. But John's neurochemical makeup is the most different from all the other Augments. Based on this, he is the most likely to be willing to help."

"I'm still not clear on something," McCoy said. "How exactly do you plan on convincing _any _of these Augments to help us? Maybe you don't remember, but the whole reason Khan went beserk in the first place was because he was trying to rescue his frozen buddies from Admiral Marcus. If he's any indication, then these guys are pretty loyal to each other. Are you just assuming one of them's gonna agree to capture his friend and then just quietly go back into his cryotubes?"

"I assume nothing," Dr. Jaresh's retorted sternly. "However, since he is so neurologically different from the other Augments, I'm hoping that John will be more reasonable. Hopefully we'll be able to make him see that it would be devastating to the human population if Khan and his compatriots were allowed to roam free."

"Hisotrically, the Augments have shown very little concern for human life," Spock pointed out. "The original Eugenics War during the late twentieth Earth century resulted in over thirty million human casualties. Furthermore, in our dealings with Khan it was evident that he believed that humans are inferior beings and that as such he felt we ought to be wiped out. If his fellow Augments still hold the same sentiments, then it is unlikely that we will be able to persuade one of them to help us for the sake of the human race."

"Well then," the lady doctor sniffed, "we'll just have to hope that John was the voice of reason that is so often ignored during war. Because right now, he's our best hope."


	11. Chapter 10

_The multitude of lights and the constant traffic of cars both on the ground and above it completely obliterated the view of the night sky over New York City. Khan remembered a time when he had been able to appreciate the stars, when he had been able to look up at them and marvel at the sight of them without knowing all about them. His brain was constantly at war; part of him felt that his mind was cripplingly cluttered, but then the Other part of him would insist that no, it wasn't clutter, he needed all of it. _

_ After all this time, Khan still hadn't acclimated to the Other part of him. And he never knew if he'd been the only one to feel that way. Did the others feel their old self and their Other self, their "better" self, sitting side by side within them? Did Caesar ever hear his old thoughts trying to reassert themselves? Did he ever feel like he was two different people? Two people who didn't care to live at all if it meant living together?_

_Khan tore his eyes away from the sky. What was he moaning about? He was better-not just better, he'd always been better. He was the best. He exceeded everyone, in everything. Wasn't that what he'd always wanted? _

Not like this. Not this way.

_Well, this was the only way. He'd had three hundred years to acclimate. Now he could fully enjoy being better. Being the best. _

_Across the street the hospital doors opened and Felicity Keane stepped into the night. She was openly crying as she crossed over to the outdoor cafe table Khan was sitting at. She dropped down into the opposite chair and practically threw the empty sample canister at him. _

_"I trust you enjoyed your poorly replicated waiting room coffee," he said flatly, not even sure why he was attempting such a painful thing as small talk. "I also trust that the transfusion had the desired effect. As I told you it would."_

_Felicity Keane glared at him silently. After a moment she spat, "I oughtta call the cops on you."_

_Khan didn't even raise an eyebrow. "For what? Curing your child? Other than that, I've done nothing." He put his hand over the woman's wrist in a gentle gesture, but subtly squeezed until she began to grimace with pain. "Don't forget our deal, Ms. Keane," he murmured in a low, threatening voice. "Just because my blood cured your son doesn't mean there's nothing left for me to manipulate you with."_

_The fear in her eyes made him smile with cruel delight. _

_"Remember," he said, "I could have persuaded you into blowing up a building instead." _

_Felicity tugged her wrist away, and Khan let her go. "Just tell me where you want me to take you," she said lamely. "The sooner we get started, the sooner I can be done with this whole job."_

_"I'm not telling you my destination," Khan said calmly. _

_"What!? But I need to know! I'm the pilot!" _

_"You do not need to know until you are at the helm of your ship, already launched and off planet."_

_Felicity snorted. "Wow. That makes me even less willing to cooperate." She scowled at him. "You know, I could just walk away. You already gave me your blood. I already cured my son with it. I could just get up and walk away from you right now. Walk away from this whole deal."_

_Khan did not give a reaction. "You could."_

_"I could walk away right now, scott-free." _

_"You could," Khan agreed. "You could go right now, pick up your miraculously healed son from hospital and take him and live-relatively-happily ever after." He gave her a small smile. Then he leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Or _I _could have put a safety into the blood sample you gave to your son. I could press a button, or enter a code, or perhaps hum a tune into the boy's ear, and thus send out a command that would shut down his brain in seconds. I could."_

_Felicity Keane was obviously trying to put on a brave face, but there were delicious tears in her eyes. "You're bluffing."_

_"I could be." Khan sat back in his seat again. Felicity was silently biting her lip in deliberation, but Khan knew he head already won. He was the best. Truth or lie, either one could come out of his mouth and only he would know the difference. _

Congratulations on being the most ambiguous being to walk the earth.

_Well, he'd wanted to be the best at everything, hadn't he?_


	12. Chapter 11

Dr. Jaresh's fingers slid across the console controls smoothly. It was likely that she had used the apparatus before.

"I am surprised that this cell even exists, Dr. Jaresh," Spock said, watching as on the other side of the clear barrier the two motorized arms the doctor was operating prepped the cryotube. "It would be logical to assume that Starfleet Command would be unwilling to take any risk by opening any of the cryotubes containing the Augments. This cell and its equipment, however, suggest otherwise. Was it approved by Admiral Hughes?"

"Bureaucracy has no place in science, Mr. Spock," the woman replied.

"In other words, no, the admiral has _not_," Dr. McCoy supplied sourly. "Maybe that's why you never showed _me_ this, hmm, doctor?"

"With all due respect, Dr. McCoy," Jaresh said without taking her eyes from her work, "you are an outside volunteer consultant, and I was under no obligation to show you any of my project." She tapped a few of the controls. "Alright, ready to initiate the thawing sequence." They all exchanged apprehensive looks. Spock gave a small nod. Dr. Jaresh directed the motorized arms in the cell to turn on the cryotube and begin reviving its occupant.

The three of them watched the cryotube on the other side of the barrier glow red and hum. McCoy shook his head with mute disapproval. The ice began to recede from the window of the crytoube and color started to seep into the face of the sleeping Augment man. Dr. Jaresh used the controls to slide the top part of the pod free. The Augment's chest expanded as he took in his first deep, waking breath.

Dr. Jaresh's eyes glittered with fierce excitement.

The Augment man's eyes flew open.

He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, then looked to his right and left. But he did not move from the position he lay in on his back.

"Now what?" McCoy asked, but Dr. Jaresh was already pushing Spock towards the clear barrier. "What!? No, no, no, Spock is not the one to talk to him," the Enterprise doctor hissed. He stepped around Spock and stood in front of the cell wall. "Please identify yourself," he said in a neutral tone to the Augment.

"Johhhhnwaa...hrrgsn..." The man shook his head as if trying to clear away mental fog.

"Could you repeat that?" Dr. McCoy asked.

The frozen man slowly sat up. He turned and looked at McCoy, then Jaresh, then Spock. His gaze burned intensely. He turned back to Dr. McCoy with wide eyes.

"Please identify yourself," Dr. McCoy repeated.

"Who wants to know?" the Augment said. He stood up and pierced his captors with his defiant, grey eyes. Aside from them, the Augment man had an unremarkable appearance-unremarkable, at least, compared to the only other Augment Spock and Dr. McCoy had seen, Khan. This man was somewhat short but solidly built, with a squarish face and upturned nose. He looked from one person to the next, waiting for an answer.

"My name is Dr. Jaresh," the woman said. "These are my colleagues, Dr. McCoy and Com-that is, Mr. Spock."

The Augment stepped forward and rapped on the cell barrier. "And why am I in here?"

"We answered one of your questions," Jaresh sniffed. "Now it's your turn. Who are you?"

The man was quiet for a moment. "My name is Caesar Cornelius. Why am I being held in this cell." He said the question as a curt statement, not as an inquiry.

"Because we're not sure we can trust you, Mr. Cornelius," Dr. Jaresh said. She stood with her hands still on the arm controls.

"We need your help, Mr. Cornelius," McCoy explained. "But we want to be sure that you _will_ help us."

"Well, I'm not gonna help you from in here," Caesar said.

"Obviously." McCoy was unimpressed. "Are you dangerous, Mr. Cornelius?"

Caesar's mouth twitched with faint amusement. "I can be." He twisted his lips as if getting ready to spit. "The longer I'm in here, the more dangerous I might get."

"Are you trustworthy? Should we ask for your help?" McCoy pressed. "Will you help us?"

"Help the people who are keeping me locked in a glass case?" Caesar's eyes narrowed and his amused smirk turned poisonous. "No looking so good right now."

The two doctors exchanged a look, but Spock spoke up. "What is your relationship with Khan Noonien Singh?"

Caesar turned sharply and looked at Spock as if noticing him for the first time. "What could you possibly want to know about Khan Noonien Singh?" he finally coughed.

"We already know a considerable amount," Spock said. "We want to find out your connection to him."

Caesar groaned. "What has he done this time?"

"He has escaped," Spock said simply. "And we are primarily concerned about what he might do next."

The Augment man nodded and smiled wryly, though fury was evident in his eyes. "And you're hoping that _I_ will help you stop him. Because we're both from the same genetically engineered stock we must be exactly the same, think exactly the same, so it'll be no problem for me to anticipate his every move." He stalked to the far side of the cell, his back to the others.

"Sounds like some real drama," Dr. McCoy grunted under his breath as he turned away.

Spock stepped forward. "Are you willing to help us, Mr. Cornelius?"

For a moment Caesar did not respond. Then he slowly turned and eyed Spock for a silent minute. "I'll consider it," he said. "If...you let me out of here. And stop treating me like a criminal."

"We're not treating you like a criminal," Dr. Jaresh interjected. "It's simply a precautionary measure-"

"Release him, doctor," Spock cut her off. The woman opened her mouth to protest. "Now, please."

Dr. Jaresh pinched her lips together but did as she was told, tapping the console. The cell barrier receded into the ceiling and the Augment stepped over the threshold and into the room. He looked at Spock with crackling eyes.

"So tell me," Caesar Cornelius said, "what has my old friend Khan been up to these days?"


	13. Chapter 12

_The cerulean curve of the Earth stretched downward and away as the small transport ship left the planet behind. No matter how many times he saw this view, there was always a small part of Khan that marveled at it. That was one thing his Other self couldn't touch. _

_"Okay, we're off-planet now," Felicity Keane's voice said over the coms. "Wanna come up to the bridge?"_

_Khan opened his communicator. "No." _

_"Come up to the bridge." The pilot snapped off the com. _

_It would be more trouble to argue than it would be to comply, so Khan turned away from the window and exited the quarters he had picked out. They were on the far side of the ship, as far away as possible from the bridge and all the rooms Ms. Keane would be frequenting. He had no desire to _fraternize_ at all during this trip. Unfortunately, _The Bootlegger_ had neither the accommodations nor the size of a ship of the fleet. It was also unfortunate that he had enlisted the services of perhaps the most stubborn and obnoxious pilot on Earth. _

_Khan pulled himself over the top of the ladder that led up to the bridge of the ship. Felicity turned in her seat to glance at him. _

_"There you are," she said. She fiddled with the controls. "We're off-planet now."_

_"Brilliant powers of observation," Khan replied dryly. _

_ "I'm just reminding you," Felicity said simply. "You said you wouldn't tell me our destination until we were off planet. Well, now we are. So now you can tell me: where are we going?"_

_Khan wordlessly reached past her and typed a set of coordinates into the con. She scowled at him and checked the coordinates he'd entered. "What is that supposed to be?" When Khan didn't answer her she searched the numbers in the ship's database._

_"Cold Station Twelve?" Felicity turned to Khan. "That's nothing but an abandoned refrigeration station on a rock floating in space. Why in God's name would you want to go there?"_

_"I have my own reasons," was Khan's simple reply. _

_"Oh yeah, like what?" the woman snorted. "Looking for some freeze pops?"_

_Khan tightened his jaw and turned away from the pilot, clenching a fist. _She doesn't know. It was merely a joke. She knows nothing. _"It is none of your concern."_

_Felicity sighed dramatically. "Okay, whatever. Setting a course. Here we go." The ship surged slightly as it jumped to warp. Khan leaned over the console. _

_"How fast are we going?"_

_Felicity shrugged. "Warp four. Why?"_

_At that speed the journey would take nearly three days. Not good enough. "Go to maximum warp."_

_"Sorry, I should've told you," Felicity said off-handedly. "_The Bootlegger_ is a bit of a patch job. She doesn't go past warp four; the warp core is stunted."_

_"I know the warp core is stunted," Khan hissed. "And I also know that this ship has a maximum capability threshold of warp 6.5. Don't try to lie to me, it _doesn't work._"_

_Felicity Keane turned away from Khan with a sour expression. "It was worth a try."_

_Khan studied the back of the woman's head. He'd been observing her every moment from the time she'd left the hospital until now; she'd had no chance to get a message out to anyone or contact any authorities. It was simple-she had merely lied about the ship's warp capabilities as a weak stab at control in a situation she had no control over. Nothing more. Still, people who looked for any facet of control in any situation, no matter how powerless they seemed, were people who needed to be watched carefully. He would be unwise to let his guard slip around Ms. Keane. It was a good thing his guard was infallible. _

_"So I have a question," Felicity said. "Why exactly do you need me for this trip? I get the feeling you already know your way around the helm of a starship pretty well. What do you need a pilot for?"_

_There was no harm in telling her. "Mainly I need you for your ship."_

_"You could've just stolen it."_

_"If you already assume I am the kind of person who would steal a transport ship then you should be able to discern why I would _not_ steal a ship."_

_Felicity frowned and turned to Khan. "Is somebody after you?"_

_"Yes," he said. "But they are woefully unskilled and I have a head start. They don't even know my destination."_

_Felicity nodded. "So with such a lead, why would you tip your pursuers off by stealing a ship and giving them a lead on you. I get it." She was quiet for a moment. "So, why am I still alive. I mean, you've got a ship now. You and I are the only ones around. Nobody would be the wiser if you just slit my throat and chucked my body out an airlock. Why haven't you?"_

_"My task cannot be efficiently completed by just one person," Khan explained. "I will need someone to help me. You are serving a dual purpose."_

_"Gee." Felicity stuck her tongue out. "I was hoping you were keeping me around cuz you enjoyed my charming personality and witty conversation. Why couldn't you just get one of your friends to help you on this little venture?"_

_Khan stared stoically into the middle distance. "I don't have friends." In a sense it was true. His friends were beyond his reach for the time being. "Anyone who might help me is incapable of doing so. I am alone."_

_"Oh." Felicity fell silent. "I'm sorry." After a moment she cleared her throat. "So. What'll you need my help for down there on that frozen asteroid anyway?"_

"It's not your problem."

"Well you just said you need my help. So that kinda makes it my problem. So you might as well just tell me now."

"I'll be sure to inform you when we get there."

"Or you could just-"

"I will tell you when we get there." Khan barked. He stood and pointed at the console. "Get this ship up to maximum warp. I'm going to my quarters. Do not disturb me." With that he turned and stalked off the bridge.


	14. Chapter 13

Spock stood against a bank of computers in the main laboratory, watching Caesar Cornelius from across the circular rooom. The Augment man was scrolling through a tablet, reading up on everything in the Federation database to do with Admiral Marcus, his Dreadnaught class starship, and Khan and the San Francisco disaster. Caesar was shaking his head.

"Oh, Sher..." Spock did not catch the end of the man's half-groaning, half-growling utterance.

"I am afraid I did not hear you," he said. "Could you repeat yourself?"

"It's nothing," Caesar replied. "I'm just shocked by the amount of damage Khan was able to do in such a short time." He set aside the tablet. "Well, not that shocked. I've seen displays of his destructive behavior loads of times. He used to be so precise; he almost never made mistakes. This whole San Francisco business was so sloppy. The Other must be getting to him."

Spock and the other two doctors exchanged a look. "What's 'the Other?'" McCoy asked.

Caesar coughed. "It's, uh...not a person. It's not anything. Just a term we Augments use to...tell the difference between our...good selves and bad selves, you might say. In a way." He puffed out his cheeks and set the tablet down. "So it's been...what, nearly a year since all this happened?"

Spock nodded. "It has been nine months since the San Francisco disaster."

Caesar looked around the lab. "That article said that Khan was sentenced to permanent cryosleep. It didn't mention he was going to be experimented on," he added in a neutral tone.

"The public doesn't know about this facility, Mr. Cornelius," Dr. Jaresh explained.

"Well where are we?"

The two doctors hesitated, but Spock did not. "We are in the lowest basement laboratories below an Earth-based branch of the Daystrom Institute."

"Top secret, underground government labs." Caesar chuckled. "Charming. But if it's so well protected-as any top secret government lab _must_ be-then how did Khan get out?"

Dr. Jaresh stuck her chin out defensively. "We don't know, really. When he escaped, he tripped plenty of alarms, but he somehow managed to get past all of our security measures untouched."

"I'm not surprised," Caesar said. "He's smarter than all of you." He cut a sideways glance at Spock. "Mostly. Still, tripping alarms, that's sloppy too. Anyways..." The Augment leaned back against the wall and folded his arms. "How do you plan on getting _me_ out?"

The two doctors looked at each other and then at Spock, but no one said anything.

Caesar's eyes widened in amused surprise. "Wow. Were you so sure I'd be untrustworthy that you didn't even bother to think about what you'd do if it _did _turn out that you could trust me?"

"On the contrary," Spock spoke up. "We know that if it was determined that we could trust you, then you would be the most qualified to plan how to escape undetected."

"Maybe I don't want to plan it," Caesar said.

"Then you have already show us that you are unwilling to cooperate and we will return you to your cryochamber."

The Augment raised an eyebrow, as if to say, "I'd like to see you try." But he gave the commander a nod. "Fine. I'll do it, just to prove I'm willing to help." He looked at the three of them. "I'll need Dr. Jaresh's clearance codes and about an hour with a computer that interfaces with all the building's systems."

"I can't give you any of my codes," Jaresh protested. "Then anything you do will be traceable to me."

"I'm not sure that's my main concern," Caesar intoned with a wry twist in his voice, "but you don't need to worry; I'll clear my footprints as I go. The computer commands won't be traceable."

"What're you going to do?" McCoy asked.

"You'll find out," said the Augment man. "For now, you and Mr. Spock leave. Go somewhere in the building with lots of people, just in case anything goes wrong, so you'll have an alibi. Stay there until you hear my signal, then make your exit. Dr. Jaresh will be with me, as my escort."

"But if anything goes wrong," McCoy protested, "Dr. Jaresh get's thrown under the bsu, because she'll be caught with you!"

Caesar gave the male doctor a rebuking look. "Would you rather leave me to escape by myself? I know you don't trust me _that_ much. You have to take _some_ calculated risk, or you'll never get anywhere."

"His reasoning is sound," Spock said. "And Dr. Jaresh is the most logical choice to escort Mr. Cornelius, as she will look the least suspicious with him in this building."

"Fine," McCoy spat. "What's this signal we're supposed to wait for?"

"You'll know it when you hear it," Caesar said. The doctor pressed him further, but that was the only answer the Augment man would give.

McCoy threw up his hands. "Fine! Fine! Have it your way. We'll be in the mess hall if you need us. C'mon, Spock."


End file.
